


Nightmare

by rant_girl



Series: The Little-est Winchesters (or Winchester cuddle ficlets) [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Gen, Weechesters, baby!boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:46:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9155362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rant_girl/pseuds/rant_girl
Summary: Wee!chesters. Dean (9) has a nightmare and starts crying, Sammy (5) wants to make it better





	

The ratty curtains curve on the wave of the breeze, but it's so hot it offers no relief, only disturbing the air enough to shift the particles but a fraction on an inch, the covers knotting around Dean's slender frame as he tosses and turns in his sleep. Eyes flickering back and forth beneath their lids.

_Charred, decaying, elongated fingers wrap delicately around the timber, a hissing growing loud in his ears, makes his insides feel cold as it turns to laughter, his head snapping to the door just in time to see the fingers disappear. But he doesn't have time to scream._

_Now he's standing at the door to Sammy's nursery his mom standing over the crib, humming something he just can't quite remember. And he really does scream as his mother bursts into flames, the renewed laughter reverberating round the inside of his skull, blackened hands curling round his flesh..._

Dean jolts into consciousness, fisting the covers on either side of him, only just managing to stop himself from bolting for the door. He's a big boy now. He's nine years old _damnit_. He's too old to go crying to his _daddy_. And he is crying. He bites down hard on his bottom lip. He can't let Sammy hear. _No way_. His movements clipped, filled with an empty rage he's too young to understand, as he untangles himself from his sheets, wanting to make as little movement as possible. Rolling onto his side to turn away from his brother, face burrowed in his pillow, as his sobs shake him.

\---

Sammy's head snaps from side to side as he snorts, and he frowns a little. He doesn't like being a big boy, he doesn't want his own bed. He wants to be beside Dean. But Daddy says they're not s'posed to share anymore now that Sammy goes to school like a big boy. But usually Sammy ends up in beside Dean anyways. Dean lets him. Though not when it's hot. Not when they were all sticky. And Dean had told Sammy to 'suck it up', and he's trying to do whatever that is. He hadn't wanted to ask Dean what it was he was supposed to suck. He didn't want Dean to think he was stupid.

He was almost drifting off again when he heard something from Dean's bed, and he sat up, edging over to the side of his bed. Dean was crying. Sammy knew exactly what he had to do. He'd seen it at kindergarten, when Stevie had been crying 'cause he didn't want to be left with the other kids, his mommy had hugged him 'til he stopped. Dean didn't like hugs. Which didn't make sense to Sammy, 'cause Dean was always giving Sammy hugs when he needed them. But Dean didn't take them too well. He usually told Sammy to get off of him. But Sammy knew he had to make his brother feel better. And maybe this time would be different. 

He would make it different.

He jumps down onto the floor, crossing the small distance between their beds and climbing up into Dean's. Sammy wraps himself around his brother's quivering form, who immediately stops shaking, Dean’s back tensing for a fraction of a second, his breath catching in his throat before his tears began anew. But he doesn't pull away.

Sammy holds on tighter. Dean clutches Sammy's pudgy little hand and he wept until they fell asleep, Sammy's hand pressed firmly against his heart.


End file.
